


Be Warm

by daphnerunning



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28027221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: Fingon sends a reply to a letter he did not want to read.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	Be Warm

**Author's Note:**

> A request for an anon on tumblr, who wanted Fingon being comforted by his good husband.

Himring was cold. The icy wind cut and stung, but Fingon hardly felt it, leaning out over the walls. It was not the Helcaraxë, after all.

The messenger bird was swift, his guidance true. Fingon watched it fly away, as trained, in wide looping circles that hid its trail. All of Turgon’s birds were trained in such a way, to preserve the location of Gondolin even from enemies from above.

The letter he’d sent in return, fixed firmly to the hawk’s leg, was not adequate. What could be? He’d said some words of sorrow in the tiny cramped script he could fit on the small scroll. What they were, he couldn’t remember. They didn’t mean much. No words could mean much, in that situation. What could he say?

A heavy cloth settled over his shoulders, making him start. He looked up, and saw Maedhros standing behind him, easing his own cloak over Fingon’s shoulders, draping him in heavy red wool trimmed with black fur. Maedhros gazed into his face, searching, and Fingon turned away, gazing out at the icy plain.

“Come inside.”

“I’m fine out here.”

Maedhros was quiet for a moment, then stepped closer, the warmth of him a comfort. “Do you need to be alone?”

Fingon considered that. There was something seductive about loneliness, just as there was about the ice. By his very presence, Maedhros melted both.

He shook his head, and Maedhros’s arms curled around him from behind, that broad warm chest pressed up against his back. “Did I ever tell you how brave she was on the Ice?” Fingon asked, and heard his own voice as if from very far away. “Half the time, she was leading us. She was so fierce. I thought...as long as she was laughing at the danger, none of us would ever fall. It was her idea to hammer nails into her boots, even if they froze her toes. She never had feeling in them again, but she was fast, so fast. She said she learned it of your brother.”

“They used to climb trees like that,” Maedhros recalled, the memory one that made him smile. “I remember my father telling Turko that if he wanted shoes with studs, he should forge them instead of ruining them. He never did, though. Did she tell you about the time all three of them rode out with Oromë?”

“She spoke of nothing else for years.” Fingon felt his mouth twitch for the first time since he’d heard the news, three days hence. “She used to cover for me, you know. Swore she was with me, when I went out to climb in through your window. I’d do the same for her, when it was her turn to sneak out to Formenos.”

“Is that how you managed it?” Maedhros’s arms squeezed, and a bit more of the ice melted.

“That, and a significant amount of lying,” Fingon admitted. He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “Do you think she’s with Aro?”

“For now.” Maedhros kissed his temple. “And soon, they will be with your mother. Perhaps even now, she is looking at Námo himself, insisting that she will only go quickly from the halls to visit her valiant older brother, and will return swiftly.”

Tears pricked at Fingon’s eyes, and he turned, burying his face in Maedhros’s chest. “I hope so. She deserves no less.”

“And,” Maedhros murmured, brushing his hair back from his face, “her feet will be warm.”

Fingon sucked in a breath, and tilted his face up, seeing his own warmth surrounding him. “Yes,” he finally said, and closed his eyes, saying goodbye to his sister at last.

_Be warm, Írissë._


End file.
